Keeping an Eye on Me

 

    It's been a surprising heart-breaking experience to grieve for this beloved pooch. I have not cried, sobbed, reminisced this much since my mom and then my dad passed away, my mom in her sleep and my dad after losing the ability to walk and then contracting pneumonia.  

    Olivia has now been gone one full week and it seems like ten years. As I look back through pictures on my phone and on Facebook I remember and realize what a big part of our lives she was. She was a boat dog, hanging twenty on the white plastic seat of our little 21-foot skiff as we all rocked and rolled in the wake of giant boats on the 4th of July to see the fireworks from the water. She was an island dog, living in an expansive condo we could barely afford, situated in the middle of the river with an almost 360 degree view. I'd launch a lime green ball way out into the current from shore and she'd swim like Michael Phelps, paddling assuredly with those webbed toes back to me and eager for more.

    This picture was taken in 2012 in that island condo. It makes me laugh to realize how cheap my husband and I are. Throughout Olivia's entire existence, we've owned that same sage green couch. The only couch she ever knew. The couch she loved to sleep on, right next to me as I read a book, scrolled through Facebook or maybe sat quiet and still.

    When we get home back to Maine in the spring it might be time for a couch change. Or maybe not. It's hard for me to let go.

    Life just keeps marching on as I continue to miss my sweet Ms. O. who always kept an eye on me.